


The Most Dangerous Game

by Petronille



Category: Hannibal (TV), The Originals (TV), Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Gen, Lies, Secrets, Vampires, iniquity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronille/pseuds/Petronille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter's arrest and incarceration lead to more questions than answers, including those regarding the whereabouts of Katherine Peters, who has been missing for over a year. Katherine Pierce returns to Baltimore to clean up the mess she made and to assist the FBI in their investigation without revealing the true nature of her romance with Hannibal Lecter. Rather AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don’t own _Hannibal_ , _The Vampire Diaries,_ or _The Originals,_ but the plot bunny was too good to ignore.  Rather AU for all series.  
  
**Some songs in the playlist:  
  
 _Paradise Circus,_ Massive Attack  
  
 _A Little Death,_ The Neighbourhood  
  
 _Carmen,_ Lana del Rey  
  
 _The Devil Within,_ Digital Daggers  
  
 _Us Against the World,_ Coldplay  
  
 _Swept Away,_ xx  
  
 _Bedroomn Hymns,_ Florence + the Machine  
  
 _My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark,_ Fall Out Boy  
  
 _Pure Morning,_ Placebo  
  
 **The Most Dangerous Game**  
  
Chapter One  
  
 _Underneath the skin there’s a human  
Buried deep within there’s a human_  
 _And despite everything I’m still human…  
                _ -from the song _Human_ by Daughter  
  
 _November, 2014._  
  
He’d been one of the only men she allowed to call her Katerina.  
  
She’d been one of the only creatures he had met who thrilled in the art of murder as much as he did.  She didn’t go out of her way to make her killings as grand and sublime as he did his, but she somehow understood it.  
  
When she’d been with him she hadn’t felt so empty inside and the sharp edges within her softened.  She was still certain it was because of him, how he had seen her, dull and tarnished inside, and he had polished and buffed her until she had gleamed like silver, like starlight.  
  
But there’d been the problem.  There always was _a problem_ with Katherine Pierce and her men.  
  
She’d begun to go tired of him, of his extremes.  She killed for sustenance, though like a cat she did enjoy playing with her food; he killed because it was like a hobby to him.  And it wasn’t like she didn’t _enjoy_ the whole thrill of the hunt, because she did.  But Hannibal Lecter took the hunt and the enjoyment of it to a whole new level.   
  
He was getting sloppy.  He was going to get caught, eventually.  And Katherine wouldn’t be there when it happened.  
  
So she’d left.   
  
She had made offers, tantalized him with the prospect of an immortal life with her, a way out of all of this.  They could somehow come up with a way to kill him, and with her blood in his system, he could be reborn as something new and have eternity with her before him, and he’d be able to kill as much as he wanted without the fear of being caught.  
  
But Hannibal Lecter had never been one to run when things got too hot.  He would rather weather the storm and wait it out, and then, when they least expected it, he would begin again.  
  
She’d always supposed he’d had a death wish, somewhere deep inside him, in the dark recesses of his heart.  Or a wish to be caught, to be somehow lauded in the media for the masterpieces of murder that he had conceived within that brilliant mind of his and brought to disturbing reality with his own two hands.  
  
It was kind of cute, actually.  
  
Of course, when he was caught, it made the news.  And all of the familiar names and faces—Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford, and Will Graham— _Will Graham_ , the big source of Hannibal’s amusement, the patsy, the man who could think like killers and who became a killer himself—was exonerated and became instrumental in the capture of the Chesapeake Ripper.  
  
There was mention of the two young women who were missing and presumed dead.  A part of each of them had been found, an arm from one and an ear from the other, but the FBI was still stumped as to the whereabouts of their bodies.  
  
She wondered what Will Graham and Alana Bloom and everyone else had told the FBI about her.  
  
And then the name she had used came up.   
  
She jumped when she first heard the CNN reporter say it, and she regained her equilibrium and turned up the television, and the words echoed throughout her mind: Missing.  Suspected murdered by Hannibal Lecter.  Suspected to have been his lover who may have known more than what was good for her.  
  
 _Well, she was living there.  And then she left.  
  
_ That was all Katherine had done: leave, leave without looking back.   
  
And it had made her part of a news story that made national headlines.   
  
She didn’t know who she ought to call.  Damon?  Stefan?  No, they were all too wrapped up with whiny, sniveling Elena, who sniveled even more now that she was a vampire.  And she had done too much to them anyhow, the bad outweighing the good.  She knew that Damon would laugh at her and tell her that since she had made the mess, she needed to clean it up herself.  And wish her good luck, because she would need it.  Stefan would be more serious about it, but would more or less tell her the same thing, with Elena glaring at her behind him.  “Haven’t you done enough to us?” Elena would demand.   
  
She’d done enough to them, yes, and she was done with them, the whole lot of them: Caroline, Jeremy, Matt, Bonnie, even her own daughter Nadia.  They made her tired, made her body and soul heavy even though she was a vampire and shouldn’t feel that way.  
  
There was always Elijah.  But then with Elijah would come Klaus and Rebekah, who would no doubt both be ready to skewer her for doing what she had done to Elijah.   
  
But she didn’t have to swallow her pride.   
  
Elijah Mikaelson sent her a cordial text.  
  
 _Come to New Orleans.  It seems we have much to discuss.  
  
_                                                               ******  
  
The Original Family had been alerted of her involvement in the case of the Copycat Killer when a photograph of her and Hannibal Lecter attending an opera gala surfaced on _Tattlecrime_ in an article covering Will Graham’s abduction of the good doctor.   
  
“It looks like curiosity got the better of our little kitty cat at one point,” Klaus said laughingly, placing his IPad on the table in front of her and pouring her another glass of whiskey on the rocks, which she took gratefully and downed in one swallow.  “So after our Davina reversed the Cure and turned you back into your lovely vampire self, you flitted off to Baltimore.  Close enough to Mystic Falls, but far enough away for you to start over again.  Why?”  
  
“Maybe because I liked the weather,” Katherine offered pettishly, picking up the IPad and studying the photograph of herself and Hannibal Lecter again.  One thing could be said for Hannibal: He pulled off a tux better than the Salvatore brothers or any Original vampire.  “You know, it’s pretty close to the climate in Virginia,” she went on.  “And the cuisine there is to kill for.”  
  
“As your toff can attest.”  Klaus wandered to the window and stared out at the expansive grounds of his plantation home.   
  
“He’s not so bad-looking, as humans go.  He’s certainly older than I’d like, but sometimes, Katherine, you have good taste in men.”  The smell of expensive perfume filled Katherine’s nostrils as Rebekah Mikaelson bent down to take a look at the photograph.   
  
“Her taste is the same as _yours_ , little sister.  Quite terrible,” Klaus jibed.  
  
Rebekah inclined her head.  “Really, brother?  This is coming from _you?_ Let’s not start on your taste in women…”  
  
Rebekah trailed off at the sight of her other brother, Elijah, entering the room.  Katherine turned in her seat to look at him.  He regarded her with the same cold reserve that he had regarded Stefan and Damon a few years ago.  So he felt nothing for her now.  _Nothing._    
  
“Well, Katerina.”  His modulated voice and his even tone indicated his lack of surprise at her taking up his offer.  “So we need to help you clean up a mess yet again.  You’ve made national news, which isn’t good for _you_ , even if it was inadvertent.”  
  
“I know it’s not good for me,” she shot back, pushing back the chair and springing up.  “There are still people out there who want me dead, Elijah.  Now the FBI is looking for me, and you know where this will lead them?  Straight to Mystic Falls, straight to Elena Gilbert, and then guess what?  The entire world is going to find out about vampires—and that means _you_.  Do you want that?”  
  
Elijah’s dark eyes shifted to meet his brother’s stare.  Klaus grinned, refilling Katherine’s glass of whiskey.  “Well, brother, you’re the one who crusades for the greater good.  I’m going to leave this to you.”  
  
“I will still need your assistance, Niklaus—and yours as well, Rebekah,” Elijah told them.  Rebekah, who had started to leave the room, heaved a weary sigh and whirled to face them.  
  
“Assistance?  You need _our_ help to bail out the Petrova doppelganger who keeps getting herself into trouble?”  She threw up her hands and shook her head.  “Not this time, Elijah.  You’re on your own.”  
  
“You forget that your safety hangs in the balance, as does mine, as does our niece’s,” Elijah reminded her.  “If we’re to clean up this mess and keep the FBI from discovering us and other supernaturals, we need to work together.  I’d prefer to keep our friends in Mystic Falls out of this; we have enough people here who can help pull this off.”  
  
“Enough people here?” Klaus echoed.  “Are you saying that we go to Marcel for help?”  
  
“Who else?” Elijah riposted, a smile playing on his lips.  “I’m sure Rebekah can use her influence if he proves difficult.  But then, the threat of discovery…”  
  
“What are you planning?” Katherine demanded suspiciously.  
  
“We’re going to help you, Katerina,” Elijah replied softly.  “As for the man in question, it appears he’s as guilty as sin.  But it might help him if we can get this little matter of Katherine Peters cleared up for the FBI.  Whether or not you wish to maintain contact with your beloved serial-killing toff is entirely your decision.”  
  
“He’s not a toff,” Katherine argued.  “He’s brilliant…he really is.  The things he creates…”  
  
“The things he creates are monstrosities,” Rebekah interrupted.  “We saw the crime scene photos.  We _know_.  It’s too bad you didn’t turn him sooner and bring him to New Orleans, Katherine.  Marcel and Klaus could have used him.”  Folding her arms across her chest, Rebekah  regarded Katherine suspiciously.  “Or you could have compelled him to come with you.  Why didn’t you compel him?”  
  
That secret—one of the great secrets of Hannibal Lecter.  “I _couldn’t_ compel him,” Katherine said.  “Don’t think I didn’t try my damnedest, because I did.  It’s something in his blood, something to do with his family.  He didn’t say exactly what…”  
  
“It doesn’t mean we can’t find out,” Elijah said, approaching her.  “You must return to Baltimore, Katherine, and you must make contact with the FBI.”  
  
“Jack Crawford will want a plausible story,” Katherine told Elijah.  “They think Hannibal killed me because I knew too much.  It’s going to look shady if I just show up in town after a year and call him up to say, ‘Hi!  I left in a hurry, Hannibal Lecter didn’t kill me.  So what do you want to know?’”  
  
“Marcel will be able to supply us with the name of an attorney in his employ.  In the meantime, you must tell us everything you know, so that we can concoct a plausible story.  When we have done that, you will return to Baltimore.”  
  
“And what about family?  Jack Crawford will want to know if I have any family,” Katherine pointed out, biting her lip.  “And I can’t exactly bring up Nadia, now, can I?”  
  
Klaus smiled enigmatically.  “As of right now, Katerina, we’re your family.  And we always protect our family.”  
  
                                                             ******  
  
Marcel was able to get her in touch with a lawyer in his employ in Baltimore, who in turn contacted the FBI and Jack Crawford about Katherine’s impending arrival and desire to speak with them.  Elijah arranged for a hotel room for her and for blood bags to be brought in for her sustenance.  “It would be best if you weren’t out hunting, given the circumstances,” Elijah told her gravely.   
  
“So what am I supposed to do—stay holed up in my hotel room the entire time?” Katherine demanded as she packed the new clothes that she had purchased on a shopping trip with Rebekah earlier that day.   
  
“You may do that, or else you might seek out the help of the woman psychiatrist, Dr. Alana Bloom.  Perhaps she could help you to deal with the issues that have been eating away at you for centuries,” Elijah suggested, smiling as he put away his Smartphone.  
  
“That was a cheap shot!” Katherine spat out.  
  
“No, Katerina, it was the truth.  Your relationship with Hannibal Lecter—whatever it was—certainly did not involve him being your psychiatrist.”  
  
Katherine opened her mouth to say something cutting, then snapped it shut with a click of her teeth.  Let Elijah have his fun for now.  Once this was all over, she was going to go back to Europe and get away from all of this.  And run like she had spent so much of her life doing.  
  
                                                           ******  
  
“Katherine Peters.”  Jack Crawford regarded the petite brunette with the professional detachment he often used with material witnesses whom he suspected of being more than what they seemed.  “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”  
  
The young woman’s pink-glossed lips curved into a slight smile.  “Yeah, it has been a long time…since I left Baltimore.”  
  
“A little over a year.”  Jack handed her the manila folder that had contained the paperwork on her disappearance.  “Dr. Bloom was very concerned about you, Katherine, since you left a few months after the murder of Abigail Hobbs.  You just up and walked away without a word, without a good-bye.  You scared a lot of people.”  
  
Katherine inclined her head, her dark curls grazing her cheek.  She smoothed out the black skirt of her dress and very slowly reached for the manila folder.  Jack noticed that her hands were well-manicured, her fingernails shaped into dainty ovals and painted a pale pink.  Hannibal Lecter’s influence, no doubt, along with the choice of a black dress and cream-colored shrug.  And always, she wore the ring, one of lapis lazuli in an art deco design, set in platinum.   
  
“It was a nasty breakup,” she said.  “I just wanted to get out of town.”  
  
“Without telling your friends, not even Dr. Bloom?” Jack Crawford prodded.  
  
“I probably should have told her.  I ended up going to New Orleans—I have family there.  I laid low for a year.”  She licked her lips.  “I didn’t want to see Hannibal again.  I didn’t want him to try and find me.  Dr. Bloom would have eventually told him where I was.”  
  
“Were you scared of him?”  
  
“No.  I just didn’t want to be with him anymore.”  Katherine rolled her eyes.  “He was getting all serious, talking about marriage, kids, all that stuff.  Stuff I wasn’t ready for.  We argued, I broke it off with him, and I packed up and left.”  
  
“Katherine, did you know about what Hannibal Lecter had done and what he had been doing under your nose, under my nose, under Alana Bloom’s nose, even under Will Graham’s nose?  Did you know about how he set up Will Graham to take the fall for murders _he_ had committed?”  
  
She licked her lips, shaking her head.  “No.  I didn’t know about any of it.  He had me as fooled as the rest of you were.”  
  
Jack smiled at her wanly.  “Well, it’s good you got out, then, while the getting was good, huh?”  
  
“It would seem like it.”  She fiddled with the hem of her shrug.  “Jack?”  
  
“Katherine.”  
  
Her black eyes flicked down to the open manila folder, and she bit her lip and lifted her face to look up at him.  “This is probably an awful question, but can I see him?  I want to see him, just to make sure he’s okay.”  
  
“Who do you want to see, Katherine?”  Susan Ledbetter’s voice was gentle as she took Katherine’s hand.  “Will Graham?”  
  
“No, I want to see Hannibal.  Is that possible, Jack?”  Her dark eyes widened, and Jack could remember her, the laughing, talkative little thing at Hannibal’s table and how Hannibal looked at her as though she were the brightest star in he sky, and how she’d looked at him like there was no one else in the world.   
  
“I’ll see if I can make that happen,” he assured her.  “But I’m warning you right now, I can’t make any promises.  Dr. Frederick Chilton is very particular about whom he lets in to see Lecter.  Maybe I can get you in with Alana or Will.  I’ll even accompany you if he gets to be too much of an asshole about it.”  
  
“If you could, that’d be great.  But I’d understand if you didn’t,” Katherine said quickly, and he thought he saw tears shimmer in her eyes as her voice quavered a bit.  “Thanks, Jack.”  
  
“Thank you for your time, Katherine,” Jack replied as he watched her and her lawyer get up to leave.  “Katherine,” he said, a twinge of curiosity suddenly hitting him.  
  
She turned to look at him. “Yes?”  
  
“Were you in love with him, Katherine?  _Are_ you still in love with him?”  
  
She pressed her knuckles to her lips, as though she were considering his question.  “Both,” she said at length.  “I was in love with him.  I _am_ in love with him.  But I just want things to be right.  The law needs to do what the law needs to do.”  
  
And after she left, Jack Crawford felt the coldness of unease in his stomach.   
  
Katherine most likely knew more than she was letting on, he didn’t doubt that.  But still, she could be useful in their investigation.  There were still the whereabouts of the bodies of Miriam Lass and Abigail Hobbs that had yet to be discovered, along with what he was sure were at least a hundred other victims.  And there were still questions surrounding the slayings of Franklyn Froideveaux and Tobias Budge that had yet to be answered.  Katherine Peters could be the key to all of this.  
  
And he knew just the person who could help him to get her to open up.


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don’t own** _Hannibal, The Vampire Diaries, or The Originals._ The plot bunny was too good to ignore.  Rather AU for all series.  
  
The Most Dangerous Game  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Seeing Alana Bloom again so soon was not something Katherine had planned, but to straighten all this out, she knew she had to play the game.  Alana had been one of Hannibal’s colleagues and closest friends, and he had mentored her in the doctorate program at Johns Hopkins.  Katherine pitied her in a withering sort of way, in that she hadn’t been able to see through Hannibal’s carefully crafted façade, particularly after the incident with Nicholas Boyle in Wisconsin.  Had Katherine been there, she would have been able to compel Alana and Abigail to believe and repeat whatever story Hannibal had concocted, but Hannibal was clear on one thing: With his games, there were always his rules, and he wouldn’t allow even Katherine to interfere. 

“Katherine.”  Alana stepped into the hotel room, the expression on her face warm, trusting.  “You could have let me know you were okay.  You had us worried sick.”  
  
Katherine regarded her with a doleful expression.  “I’m sorry,” she told Alana as she finished applying her mascara.  “I was scared you would have told him, scared he would have found me.  He’s very good at finding people.”  
  
Alana looked at Katherine with concern.  “Did you know what he was doing?  Was that why you left?”  
  
Katherine capped the mascara tube.  She exited the bathroom and reached for her purse, making a show of checking her Smartphone so she wouldn’t have to look in Alana’s inquisitive blue eyes.  “I didn’t know anything about his extracurricular activities, if that’s what you’re asking about.  I left because he was suffocating me.  Maybe he knew he was going to get caught soon, maybe he wanted to act like he was planning a life with someone and he was normal.  I don’t know.  You’re the psychiatrist.”  
  
Alana’s brow creased as she let out a long-suffering sigh.  “Maybe that’s something we can talk more about later.  I’m sure you’re still processing the whole thing, too.”  
  
Katherine glanced up from her Smartphone, inclining her head.  “I’m sorry,” she told Alana.  “I just found out about all of this, and like you said, it’s hard to process.  I was living in his house, sleeping in his bed, eating his food , all without knowing he was killing people and then feeding them to me. “   
  
“You’re sure you want to see him?” Alana asked her.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.   No one is expecting you to…”  
  
“Yes,” Katherine interrupted.  “Yes, I want to see him.”  
  
Alana nodded.  “Okay then.  But I have to warn you he’s not the man you’re used to seeing.  He’s changed…a lot.”  
  
“We all have,” Katherine replied, putting her phone away and shrugging on her peacoat.  “I’m ready to go when you are.”  
  
Alana buttoned her coat and led Katherine out to the car.  “We can get dinner afterward,” she told Katherine.  “If you want, we can talk about whatever happens there.”  
  
Katherine eyed Alana levelly as she climbed into the psychiatrist’s Toyota.  “Maybe,” she said.  “You’d be the best person to talk to about it.”  
  
Alana took that as a compliment, and she smiled.  She and Katherine spent the entire ride to the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane in silence.  Katherine stared out the window, trying to tune out the sound of the blood thrumming through Alana’s veins.    
  
She’d had blood from a bag this morning, but somehow, it wasn’t as good as blood pulsing from the vein.  But she couldn’t feed from Alana.  That would really be pathetic.  She’d have to wait until tonight.  
  
Dr. Frederick Chilton greeted them when they first stepped into the hospital, and as he led them to his office Katherine could feel his eyes on her as he appraised her just like he appraised all women.  
  
She whirled to face him.  “Stop staring at me,” she ordered, her eyes meeting his.  “Now, please.”    
  
The compulsion worked.    
  
Chilton went on to talk about the precautions the hospital had taken for Katherine’s visit with Hannibal, how she would be able to see him, yes, but _only_ see him.  No touching, no physical contact.  Trust Chilton to cover his bases.  Hannibal might kill someone, even with his own bare hands.  
  
He was in one of the cells, behind bars, like an animal at the zoo, wearing the standard prison jumpsuit.  He had lost some of his color from not being outside.  He lifted his head from his drawing at the sound of her heels across the concrete floor, and he put his work aside when he saw it was her.  “Katerina.”  
  
Her heart fluttered when she heard him say her name.  She didn’t think she would react like this.  
  
She remembered things, the way his hands had felt on her hips, the taste of his blood, the smell of him, the way his eyes would darken when he was ready to make a kill.    
  
Rebekah was right.  Katherine should have turned him.  He would have made a killer vampire.  
  
“I didn’t think you would come,” he went on, rising from his chair and approaching the bars.    
  
She took a seat in the chair that had been placed opposite his cell.  “You didn’t think I’d come?  I would have come eventually, Hannibal.  You know that.”  
  
He cocked his head, staring at her, taking in the ensemble she had chosen for today.  “You’re looking well.  But that’s only to be expected.”  He gestured to the chair in front of his cell.  “Sit down.”  
  
It was just as though he were still in his own study in his own home, receiving her as a visitor, and wishing her to sit down so they could sip wine, catch up, and talk about old times.    
  
_You’ve drunk the entire bottle.  That was very rude of you, Katerina.  
  
I’m a vampire, Hannibal.   I can be as rude as I want to.    
  
_ “So how did it happen?” Katherine asked him, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing the skirt of her wrap dress.  “How did Dr. Bloom get the idea to report me as a missing person?”  
  
Hannibal’s face remained impassive, but his eyes glinted with a speculative light.  “I told her you had left in the middle of the night and that you were very distraught.  She filed a missing person’s report with the police when you wouldn’t pick up your calls and her other attempts to contact you failed.”  
  
“Because I’d ditched that phone.  Anyway, I wasn’t really that interested in talking to her at that moment.  I was more interested in getting out of Baltimore.”  
  
“Why, Katerina?”  
  
“You _know_ why, Hannibal.”  
  
He returned to his drawing.  “You really think I would have pursued you?”  
  
“I think you would have tried to find me and get me to come back to you.  So I took precautions.”  
  
“But you came back.”  He paused his sketching and eyed her meaningfully.  
  
“I had to come back.  There was a little something that had to be cleared up.  When I’m done, I’m leaving.”  
  
“Do you really think that Jack Crawford would let you leave Baltimore so easily now that you’re back?” Hannibal asked her mockingly.  “He’ll do what he can to keep you here, Katerina, until all of the questions regarding this have been answered to his satisfaction.”  
  
“Have you been answering their questions?”  
  
“I’ve answered some and have declined to answer others.”  A smirk cut across his face.    
  
“So why not just answer all of his questions and make some kind of deal?”  
  
“Do you think I would stoop to such a thing, especially when it involves Jack Crawford?”  
  
“You’re already locked up.  Where’s the fun in continuing to screw with him?”    
  
He sighed.  “Katerina, stop pretending to be naïve.  You know perfectly well why I find it amusing.”  
  
Of course, the cat-and-mouse game, the thrill of sending Jack Crawford on a snipe hunt.  Hannibal had done this more times than she could count during the course of their affair.  Katherine had to admit she enjoyed cat-and-mouse games—she had certainly played more than enough of them in her time—but there was also a point at which they had to stop and some other, more direct move had to be made.  Which was why she had proposed leaving.  And why Hannibal had refused.  
  
“What does your lawyer say?”  
  
“He advised me that it wouldn’t win my any sympathy from the judge or a jury.  But he only can _advise_ me.  Whether or not I take his advice is at my discretion.”  
  
Katherine scoffed, leaning forward.  “I can’t believe this, Hannibal.  This is pathetic.”  
  
“What are you calling pathetic, Katherine?  Or rather, whom?”  
  
“This whole situation.  You ought to be playing ball with Jack Crawford and the police and whoever else…”  
  
“ _Whom_ ever else.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and saw Hannibal glare at her in reaction.  “ _Whomever_ else just so you can come out of this intact.”  She stood up and approached the cell with careful steps.  “I want you to come out of this intact.”  
  
He rose and came closer to her.  They were just inches away from each other, separated by iron bars, but still he sniffed her.  “You’re wearing Amarige de Givenchy.  Did you pick that out deliberately for today?”  
  
“It’s in my rotation,” she replied quietly.  “And it was always your favorite when we were…still together.”  
  
He reached through the bars and touched her hair.  The guard jumped up immediately, but Katherine gave one look at the guard and ordered him to stay where he was.  He complied.    
  
“You’ve always proven yourself useful,” Hannibal remarked.  He leaned closer. “You won’t betray any secrets, I hope?” he whispered .  
  
“As long as you don’t betray mine,” she replied.  
  
He nodded, smiling.  “Tell me something, Katerina.”  
  
“What do you want me to tell you?”  
  
“Did you love me?”  
  
Katherine inclined her head.  “Did _you_ love _me_?”  
  
“Katerina.”  
  
“I can’t answer that question right now,” she told him.  She stepped away and turned to the guard.  “I’m done here.”  Turning back toward Hannibal, she said, “I have to go.”  
  
“Will you be returning?” he asked her.  
  
“Hannibal, you know I can’t promise that.”  And she turned away from him to follow the guard back to Chilton’s office.  
  
                                                                   ******  
  
“So how did it go?” Alana asked Katherine once they were in the car.    
  
Katherine blinked.  “It was okay.”  
  
“I told you he’d changed.”  
  
“He has.  He makes no effort to hide who he really is now.”    
  
“I’m sorry if it upset you, Katherine.”  
  
“What do you have to be sorry about?  I was the one who wanted to see him.  I got my wish.”  
  
“Did he say anything important?”  
  
Katherine shook her head.  So now Alana Bloom was questioning her about Hannibal, too.    
  
“Is there something you’re looking for?” Katherine asked her harshly.  “Do you want me to go see him again with a list of your questions?  Because if you want me to, I will.  It doesn’t mean he’ll answer them.”  
  
“But he _might_ answer them,” Alana countered.  “Katherine, we’ve got two missing women who could possibly be alive.  Hannibal knows where they are, and if you could get that out of him, we could find Abigail and Miriam Lass.”  
  
“You honestly think I could get that information for you?”  
  
“We’d just want you to try.  Katherine, we watched the footage.  He touched you and he whispered something in your ear.  What did he say?”  
  
Katherine glanced away from Alana.  “He told me he missed me and some of the things we used to do…when we were together.  Romantically,” she lied.  “I told him prison shouldn’t be a place for romance.”  
  
“Oh.”  Alana looked ahead.  “How do you feel about Italian tonight?  We’re meeting someone else here, and they got a table for us already.”  
  
Katherine felt a twinge of reservation in her gut.  “Who’s meeting us?”  
  
“You’ll see,” Alana said as she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.  They both got out of the car and Katherine followed her in.  Alana seemed to be looking for someone, and she motioned for Katherine to follow when she found them.  
  
That someone was Will Graham.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don’t own _Hannibal,_ _The Vampire Diaries,_ or _The Originals_.  The plot bunny was just too good to ignore.  Rather AU.**  
  
 **The Katherine playlist for this will show up soon, as will the Hannibal/Katherine playlist.**  
  
 **The Most Dangerous Game**  
  
 **Chapter Three**  
  
 _February, 2012.  
  
_ It had begun, ironically, on Valentine’s Day at a sports bar.  Or rather outside of one, one of those loud, brightly lit homages to Irish pubs that sold cheap beer and shots and reheated potato skins and played three different games on three different big-screen TVs.  It was only expected that the rude service manager from the dealership would choose such a place, in Hannibal’s eyes; the cheapness of the bar fitted the cheapness of the man’s personality and the amount of air wasted keeping him alive.    
  
Hannibal had followed Nathan Avery here twice; he liked to go to this establishment and drink to his heart’s content on the evenings before his days off, take a cab home, either alone or accompanied by some equally intoxicated woman, and the next day, once sober, return to fetch his vehicle.  This night played out much the same, only the bar was busier with singles avoiding the restaurants and couples wanting to keep the night low-key, and the occasional disappointed girlfriend or wife frowning over her mozzarella sticks and potato skins and wishing she were with another man.  
  
And of course, Hannibal’s quarry didn’t leave the bar alone.  A young woman was with him, a rather petite thing with long, curling hair and a black dress that was way too short on her and heels that were way too high for her, but which she managed with great skill.  The man said something, and the woman laughed, tilting her head back.  She took his hand and pulled him across the street to the dark alley where Hannibal had parked his car.   
  
“Here—in an alley?” Hannibal heard Nathan slur as the woman pushed him up toward the wall.  “Fuck, Kat, you’re a nasty girl.”  
  
Kat laughed, then stopped abruptly and looked Nathan in the eye intensely.  “Stop talking.  Now,” she ordered.  
  
He complied with a groan, and Kat kissed him.  He cradled her head in his hand, and she stepped a bit to the side so that she could kiss his neck.  Which she spent quite awhile doing.  Between the two of them, their moans and grunts cut through the silence of the night.  
  
Hannibal saw this as his opportunity, and he slowly made his way around the car.  Kat lifted her head from Nathan’s neck, and it looked as though she were wiping her mouth on his shirt.  She didn’t even have time to turn around before Hannibal snapped her pretty little neck.  Nathan Avery stood there in a stupor, his hands trembling as he took in the sight of the dead woman on the ground in front of him.  He raised his eyes to see the face of her killer—and soon, his—in front of him, but before he could manage a word, Hannibal was able to subdue him with a quick blow to the side of his head.   
  
With both bodies in the car, he drove to home where he could butcher both bodies without interruption.  It was most unfortunate for the young woman that she was collateral damage, but it was serendipitous for Hannibal, for he would be able to take more meat than he had originally expected.   
  
Of course, his plans for butchering the bodies were foiled, too.  
  
When he opened the trunk of his sleek black Lexus to remove the first of the bodies, he didn’t expect the kick to the solar plexus that sent him reeling.  
  
“Snap my neck while I’m feeding, huh?” he heard a woman’s voice demand, and he looked up to see the woman named Kat bending over him, her dark eyes glittering with anger.  He attempted to get to his feet, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him down on his hands and knees again with more strength than a woman her size should have.  “Who the hell do you think you are, killing the guy I’m feeding on before I’m even done?”  
  
He turned his face up to get a good look at the woman, and it was then he realized that though she looked to be quite young, she had the air of someone who was much older and who had seen much in her lifetime.  In his mind’s eye, he replayed the recent events of the evening.  He had snapped her neck, he had killed her.  There was no way she should have been able to overtake him, let alone be speaking to him now.   
  
Yet despite the absurdity of the situation, Hannibal Lecter retained control.  “It would appear,” he said, “that we were hunting the same man.  You simply happened to be there, which only meant that you would share his fate.”  
  
She inclined her head, a smile playing on her red-glossed lips.  “So I was collateral damage, then?  Or I was supposed to be?”  
  
He felt her small fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn’t flinch as he reached for her wrist.  “You were supposed to be collateral damage.  And you _will_ be collateral damage.  I’m terribly sorry…”  
  
He tugged her wrist away from his shoulder and the move caught her off balance.  She teetered on her heels.  Hannibal sprang up and caught her, pinning her to the ground.  She writhed underneath him as he removed the zip cuffs from the pocket of his slacks.  Her eyes met his, and suddenly her voice seemed sonorous and soothing, like a lullaby.  
  
“You’re going to let me go,” she said.  “You’re going to forget you ever saw me.  Nathan Avery was alone in the alley, and you didn’t kidnap anyone else along with him.”  
  
He stared down at her, a frown marring his face.  “What makes you think I’m going to let you go?”  
  
Her eyes widened at some realization, and then he saw the change in her face as her irises changed from brown to black, as dark shadows appeared under her eyes, as she curled her upper lip back to reveal fangs.  He pulled away in astonishment, even though the rational side of him tried to make sense of it, remembering the tales he had been told as a child and the books he had read as a youth, telling himself that this couldn’t _possibly be_ …  
  
She disengaged her wrist from his grip and shoved him away, getting to her feet.  He stood up, too, watching her just as she watched him.  Predators, both of them, each one sizing the other up, each one waiting for the other to make a move.  
  
Her scent wasn’t as strong, but it still lingered in his nostrils.  She reeked of death, stale blood, cheap whiskey, and Clinique Happy.  Her lips curved into a knowing smirk, and she placed a hand on her hip.  
  
“They warned me about you,” she said.  “Or about _him_.  They thought it was a rogue vampire.  And they were wrong!”  She laughed.  
  
“Who warned you about me?” he demanded, taking a step forward.  Her eyes narrowed a bit.  
  
“I know what you are.  There are vampires who are like you, but I’ve never met a human one before.”   
  
“Vampires who are like me?  And what am I?” he asked her softly, watching as she took another step toward him.  
  
“A serial killer.”  It sounded almost beautiful, the way she said it, and he wondered what it would take to kill her.  
  
“Are you going to go to the police, or to your other vampire friends?” he pursued.  
  
She rolled her eyes, tossing her head a bit.  “Why would I do that?  It’d be easier just to kill you so my secret stays safe.”  
  
“But you haven’t killed me yet.”  
  
“No, I haven’t killed you yet.  And I really don’t want to.  There’s a no-kill policy in Baltimore when it comes to feeding on humans, and it’d be way too easy for the vampire head honchos here to find out.”  She picked her clutch out of the trunk.  “What are you going to do with the body?”  
  
“That’s my concern.”  
  
“You’re going to have to dispose of it.  I’m a pro at that.”  
  
“As am I.”  
  
“There’s still some blood in him.  He’s not fully dead, just unconscious.”  
  
“Which was how I wanted him.  Once I have taken the organs, you can drink him dry.  I will trouble myself with the disposal of the body.”  
  
A slow smile spread across her face.  “So you’re the one the vampires are so scared of.”  
  
“And whom are they scared of?”  
  
“The Chesapeake Ripper.”  
  
                                                                                                                               ******  
  
Despite the oddness of the circumstances, he was a most gracious host.  Once he was done butchering the meat, he let her drink the corpse dry.  He had never seen a vampire drink, and it was fascinating watching her sink her fangs into Nathan Avery’s wrist and neck and take whatever blood she could, her eyes half-closed and her face languid.  He gave her his handkerchief so that she could wipe her mouth.  
  
Once she was done, and once they had gone upstairs to his kitchen, he poured two glasses of Shiraz, offering her one.  She raised an eyebrow, but she took the glass anyhow.  He felt a little surge of exhilaration when he saw that she held the glass by the stem so as to protect the flavor of the wine.  He watched her as she sipped it, and in his mind, her lips caressed the rim of the wine glass as though they were engaged in a kiss.  
  
“I will take you home tomorrow,” he offered.  “For tonight, you may use one of the guest rooms.  My appointments are later in the morning, so it will be no inconvenience for me.”  
  
She regarded him cynically, and a slow smile spread across her lips.  “You’re such a gentleman, aren’t you, even though we just tried to kill each other?  What about your secret—aren’t you concerned that I’ll let it drop?”  
  
He smirked at her as he put the meat in his refrigerator.  “No, I’m not concerned about it, because then I might let your secret out.  After all, you were the one who really killed our friend.”  
  
Her dark eyes narrowed.  “So it’s…”  
  
“Quid pro quo.”  
  
“You’ll keep my secret if I keep yours?  Fair enough, since I can’t compel you.”  She shrugged.  “I wonder why that is.”  
  
“Don’t trouble yourself with it.”  He stepped toward her, refilling her glass.  “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves?  My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and you are Kat…”  
  
“Katherine,” she interrupted.  “Pierce.”   
  
“Katherine.”  
  
“Hannibal.”  She took hold of his wrist after he had put the bottle down.  “And you’re a doctor of what?”  
  
“Psychiatry.  But before that, I was a surgeon.”  He watched as she traced the intricate network of veins on the back of his hand, as she turned his hand over so that his palm faced up.  He felt her fingers slowly pass over the soft skin, and then she closed his fingers over his palm.  He looked up to see the corners of her lips turned upwards into a smile.  
  
“You have a surgeon’s hands.  And a surgeon’s knowledge.”  She let go of his hand and wandered to the refrigerator.  “Do you eat them, your victims?”  
  
“I cook the organs and I eat them, yes.”  
  
“You serve them to other people?”  
  
“Perhaps I do.”  
  
“There’s no need for you to be all mysterious about it.  I’m a vampire.  I drink human blood.  I’ve killed people, too.  It’s a simple question, so just answer it.”  
  
“I _have_ answered it.”  
  
She turned to face him, and he saw an odd light glittering in her eyes.  “It’s amazing, in a really twisted way.  Would you call yourself a good cook?”  
  
“I’ve been called a superior cook.”  
  
“And you like fine booze.”  She grinned, sipping her wine again.  “You’re quite a catch.”  
  
“Be careful, Ms. Pierce.”  
  
“Be careful of what?”  
  
“I don’t tolerate rudeness, particularly out of uninvited guests.”  
  
“Then I’ll make sure not to be rude.”  She downed the rest of her wine, putting down the glass.  “So where’s that room—and do you have something in the way of pajamas for me, Dr. Lecter?”  
  
He provided her with the top of one of his cotton pajama sets.  He procured some dental floss, some toothpaste, some mouthwash, a toothbrush, and some soap for her, leaving them neatly on the counter of the guest bathroom.   
  
“If you need anything,” he said as he handed her the pajama top, “my bedroom is down the hallway.  Please feel free to let me know.”  
  
“I will,” she said.  “Thanks.”  
  
She didn’t bother him at all that night.  She was up early, as was he, and he made her his protein scramble for breakfast.  She stared at him, almost laughing.  
  
“Is this people, Dr. Lecter?”  
  
“Pardon me, Ms. Pierce?”  
  
“The sausage.  Is it human meat from your victims?”  
  
“Is it?”  He set a cup of coffee in front of her, and she crossed one tanned leg over the other and straightened on the stool.  In his mind, it was a provocative gesture, as she was still dressed in his pajama top.  
  
She put a forkful of it in her mouth, chewing slowly, and once she had swallowed, she said, “Or maybe it’s organic pork from a very skilled butcher?”  
  
“Maybe it is, Ms. Pierce.”  
  
“The protein scramble is amazing, though.”  She inclined her head as she picked up her mug of coffee.  “I think I’m starting to like your cooking, Hannibal.”  
  
“Thank you, Katherine.”  
  
She went upstairs and showered and dressed in last night’s clothes.  She gave him the directions to the place where she was staying, and once Hannibal saw the motel, his stomach turned.  She was ready to get out of the car when he placed his hands on hers.  
  
“This is where you’re staying?”  
  
“Yeah.”  She looked at him as though he were a madman.  “I’ve stayed in worse places.”  
  
“There is no need for you to stay in places like this.”  
  
“Oh?  And where do you think I ought to stay?” she demanded, her dark brows drawing together into a glare.  
  
“I would rather have you stay with me.  You could have all of the blood you needed.  And as it so happens, I need a receptionist.  Perhaps you could fill the position?”  
  
She bit her lip.  “Dr. Lecter.”  
  
“An hour ago I was Hannibal.”  
  
“Hannibal, you’re offering too much.  I’m trying to keep a low profile, and you…”  
  
“Katherine, if you wished to keep a low profile, you would not be hunting as you were last night.  You would not have ended up in the trunk of my vehicle with Nathan Avery.  I’m offering you an alternative.”  
  
She opened her mouth, then shut it with a quick click of her teeth.  “So you’ll butcher bodies and I’ll get the blood?”  
  
“Not entirely.  I have ways of obtaining blood for you.”  
  
“That’s a lot to give me.  What’ll you want in return?”  
  
He smirked.  “I would only want the pleasure of your company, Katherine.  And the chance to refine you, as you need it.”  
  
“Okay then, Professor Higgins.  Refine away, but let me get my stuff.”  
  
                                                                                                                              ******   
  
Katherine found herself a permanent guest in Hannibal Lecter’s house from then on.  He let her take over the guest room she had occupied the first night, but within a few months it would grow into something more, and she moved from the guest room into his bedroom.  
  
But when Will Graham entered their lives, that had been the beginning of the end.  
  
                                                                                                                              ******  
  
 _November, 2014._  
  
Dinner was tense.  Katherine ordered two bottles of Chianti.  
  
 _With fava beans and liver._  
  
 _I hate liver, Hannibal._

 _Dearest Katerina, let me prepare some for you, and you’ll love it._  
  
When Alana left the table to take a call regarding one of her patients, Will Graham struck.  
  
“You’ve got to help us, Katherine,” he said, cutting into his lasagna even though he seemed to have no intention of eating it.  
  
“Help you?  How?  I’ve been helping all I can,” she said before downing another glass of wine.  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“Funny how you won’t say that in front of Alana Bloom.”  
  
“That’s because I like Alana.  I don’t like _you_.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Katherine rolled her eyes.  “Because you’re a whinebaby.”  
  
“I may be a whinebaby, Katherine, but I know what you are.”  
  
“Oh?” Katherine said, pouring herself another glass of Chianti.  
  
“What—you think the others in Baltimore didn’t know?”  Will Graham’s hands seemed to shake as he poured himself some more water.  “You don’t think they came to talk to me after I got out?”  
  
Katherine chewed her manicotti, trying to think of how to respond to Will.  “Look, Will, I know what Hannibal did now, and it sucks, but…”  
  
“Cut it out, Katherine.  I know what you are.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Will glared at her.  “ _I said,_ I know what you are.  Did you think the other locals would remain silent when it was so obvious you’d been with Hannibal Lecter?”  
  
“So what am I?” she challenged as she saw Alana reenter the restaurant.  
  
“They all came crawling out of the woodwork to tell me, Katherine.  You’re a vampire.”  
  
 **So Will knows.  Oh, Katherine, what did you and Hannibal do that got the Baltimore vampires talking to the FBI?**  
  
 **And should Clarice Starling show up in this?  I mean, you know, Mystic Falls is a state away and all…**


End file.
